


Their Shared Will

by sanguinity



Series: The Hornblowers' To Command [2]
Category: Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Partner-Sharing, Pining, Service Sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: Will had the sensation of being a puppet to their shared will: they wished him to kiss Maria, and so he did.Hornblower invites Bush into his and Maria's bed.
Relationships: Horatio Hornblower/Maria Mason, William Bush/Horatio Hornblower, William Bush/Horatio Hornblower/Maria Mason, William Bush/Maria Mason
Series: The Hornblowers' To Command [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1416214
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	Their Shared Will

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to PhoenixFalls for beta!

Bush woke to quiet murmurings and Maria's body shifting under his arm. He had apparently fallen asleep against her side, there where the Hornblowers had bullied him into lying down next to her, as they sometimes did. A blanket had been pulled up over them both, and at some point someone had extinguished the candle.

"Ow," Hornblower whispered, hoarse from Will's abuses against him earlier. He was on the far side of Maria, propped up on his elbow, his nightshirt ghostly-white in the moonlight. "My lip is cut, I think." The silhouette of his long-fingered hand came up to his face as he experimentally tested his lip.

"Oh, you poor angel," his wife answered, her hand coming up to touch his mouth, too. Hornblower hissed and drew back, as if he had not just hours earlier stoically taken the blows that had given him that cut. She made a small sound of sympathy. "I'll get you some arnica for that."

Will should return to the _Hotspur _— whatever liberties he might have been requested to take with his captain earlier, he was now clearly intruding on the Hornblowers' marriage bed. But even though he knew he must remove himself, he was curiously reluctant to stir, groggy with sleep as he was, warm and comfortable against the softness of Maria's shoulder.

"It can wait," Hornblower rasped. "But I'm useless to you — you'll have to apply to Bush for your kisses. He's awake, I think."

"Oh!" Maria twisted toward Will, lifting a hand to stroke his face. "Will, dear. Did we wake you?"

Her touch on his cheek felt like a benediction, and he allowed himself to savour it. "No, ma'am," he lied.

She laughed. "Maria," she corrected him, and lifted her chin to kiss him.

It had become so natural to yield to her wishes — Maria, who directed him so confidently in the matter of her husband's desires, and who was so firm in her kindness to Will afterwards — and it was so natural, too, to lean in to her welcoming warmth and answer in kind, that it was perhaps two full seconds before he realised that he ought not to be kissing his captain's wife. He pulled back with a start.

"Beg pardon," he muttered to them both, and pushed back the blanket to climb off the bed.

"Will?" Maria asked.

"Belay that," Hornblower ordered, and Bush stopped where he was, a bare foot on the rag rug beside the bed. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to the _Hotspur, _sir."

"You'll have a devil of a time getting a boat at this hour. They'll send us the gig in the morning."

"Come back, Will," Maria said, her small hand on his arm. "Don't go yet."

"You'll stay here tonight," Hornblower ordered. "I won't have you wandering about the wharfside alone at this hour."

Bush hesitated, but there was nothing to be done about an order except obey it. "Yes, sir."

Maria held up the covers for him — not just the blanket, but all the bedding, inviting him to get into the bed properly. Cautiously, alert for his captain's disapproval, Will got into the Hornblowers' bed.

Satisfied with Bush's obedience, Hornblower turned to his wife again. He ran a hand over her stomach. "You should get out of these stays, my dear." She murmured agreement and the mattress shifted, Hornblower making way for Maria to get off the bed. Will listened to the domestic rustlings as she moved about the room, undressing. Presently she returned, her nightshirt faintly glowing in the moonlight. There was the sound of a jar lid and more murmurings: she was tending to her husband's swollen lip. Again Hornblower hissed and jerked, and Bush smiled to himself: Hornblower was not nearly so expressive aboard the _Hotspur._ Then the sound of the lid again, the knock of glass on wood. Again the mattress shifted as Hornblower got off the bed and lifted the covers for his wife.

She slid all the way across to where Will lay close to the edge of the bed, and tucked her small body against him. "Dear Will," she said, laying her head near his; she took his hand and placed it across her waist, now freed from her stays.

Will spread his hand wide, feeling the soft swell of her stomach through the fabric of her nightshirt.

Behind her, Hornblower settled himself under the covers. His own hand came to Maria's side, stroking her hip, his fingers brushing Will's. "What would you like, my dear? A kiss good night?"

"That would be lovely," she said, and turned her face to Will.

"Well?" Hornblower said, when Bush hesitated. "_I _can't kiss her good night."

Maria tipped her chin up expectantly, and Will, understanding an order when he heard one, dipped his head to kiss his captain's wife. He had done as much before, after all, Maria bestowing a kiss on him for courage or approval: chaste kisses, almost holy, as otherworldly as the act of raising a fist to his captain.

But Maria put her fingers to his jaw and drew the kiss out, claiming a second as soon as the first was finished. Her sweetness was an intoxicating contrast to the violence that Hornblower demanded from him, or even the harshness of shipboard life. Too, Will had developed an almost worshipful, hopeless longing for her over these past weeks: his captain's wife, who treated him with such kind, generous sympathy.

Still, he might have stopped there, wary of pushing her husband's patience too far, but Hornblower's hand came to cover his, his long fingers stroking over Will's. It made Will shiver, that touch, so much like a lover's. Maria opened her mouth under Will's, the kiss no longer so chaste, and still Hornblower touched Will's hand, apparently unconcerned. Will had the sensation of being a puppet to their shared will: they wished him to kiss Maria, and so he did. She stretched up to meet him, her hand at his neck, keeping him close…

"Yes, that's right," Hornblower said, and Will felt almost dizzy with it, Maria warm and soft in his arms and Hornblower's approving voice in his ear. Hornblower's hand left his; Hornblower was touching Maria's breast now, squeezing it through her nightshirt, his fingers finding the nipple through the fabric. With a wary eye for his captain, Will pulled back from the kiss. But Maria did not let him go. "Will," she said, stretching luxuriously under her husband's touch.

Eagerness and uncertainty flared in him in equal measure. He looked to Hornblower for guidance, but it was impossible to make out his expression in the gloom.

Hornblower reached for Will's hand, and deliberately slid it to Maria's breast, the gesture unequivocal. Her breast was soft under his hand, not quite as warm as her stomach. His fingers, certain where he was not, found her nipple.

"How is that, my dear?" Hornblower asked his wife affectionately. "Shall he kiss you again?"

"Yes, please," she said, and lifted her face to Will.

It was clear enough what Hornblower wanted him to do — Hornblower and his wife both — and clarity was all he ever asked for in a set of orders. He dipped his head and kissed Maria, not in the least chaste this time, and his blood leapt in him at the way she pressed closer still.

"Does he want you?" Hornblower asked his wife, and Maria wriggled in Will's arms, pressing her hip into his groin, where he was stiff in his trousers.

"Yes," she giggled, delighted.

"He's a better man than your husband," Hornblower said.

"Oh, _Horry," _she said, reaching for him with her free hand, but he evaded her touch.

"No, don't mind me. Bush is going to treat you like a queen. Isn't he?"

The question was stern, expectant, and Bush responded "Aye aye, sir," before quite realising he had done. But then his brain caught up with his mouth, and there was no question: Maria, who gave his captain so much and took care of Will so well… He dipped his head to kiss her again, eager and reverent.

"Good man," Hornblower approved, and Bush helplessly thrust into Maria's hip. He was more eager than he should be after just a few kisses, but this was Maria, not some wharfside cat — Maria, who commanded him so firmly and tenderly, Maria, his captain's wife. And his captain himself watching proprietarily over both.

"Shall I show him how you like to be touched?" Hornblower asked his wife, his hand at the hem of her nightshirt.

"Oh, yes," she said, lifting her hips to help her husband rearrange the fabric.

Hornblower took Will's hand from his wife's breast, physically lifting and shifting it where he wanted it, and Will bit back a groan. Embarrassment welled up in him that he should be undone by so simple a gesture, but Maria only turned her face to Will's and nuzzled and petted him, calling him her dear Will.

"Now pay attention," Hornblower said, his long fingers directing Will's own on his wife's cunt, and only years of naval discipline as a midshipman, paying strict attention to his instructors unless he wished to meet a rope's end, saved Will. He threaded his fingers through Maria's brush, following Hornblower's own fingers, and learned that Maria liked to be touched firmly through the loose skin of her sheath — Maria lifted her hips and sighed, her breath fluttering in her throat — but that he should avoid the too-sensitive nubbin underneath. At Hornblower's direction, he pushed lower, among her folds, questing for the hot moisture that wetted his fingertips. "Gently," Hornblower coached him, "only one finger," and indeed, even that much seemed to make Maria fidget in discomfort. Will pulled back and went more gently, trying to pet her into softening for him, and she made contented little noises against his neck. Her wetness clung to his fingertips, thick and deliciously warm. Satisfied that Will had the drift of it, Hornblower lifted his hand away, and put his own fingertips to Bush's mouth, and Will licked and sucked at the wetness on Hornblower's fingers, tasting the fragrant tang of his wife's cunt, the strong lines of his captain's fingers.

"William," Hornblower said, his voice hushed, his fingers pressed against Will's lips, and Will's heart cracked with yearning.

Hornblower cleared his throat, his expression going to stone, and turned back to his wife. "Would you like him to kiss you?"

Will didn't wait for direction, but pushed aside the covers and crawled down between Maria's legs.

"Oh!" she gasped, evidently surprised, but after a moment's indecision, she spread her legs to make room for him.

Hornblower chuckled. "Not what I had in mind, but shall we see what he can do?"

Will stroked the soft skin of her inner thighs, and the muscles underneath relaxed as she positioned her legs more comfortably. He nosed in among her brush, combing the curls back out of the way with his fingers, and settled himself into the task of translating the recently-learned motion of fingers into mouth and tongue. Even a tongue was too much directly on Maria's nubbin — she flinched and tensed, and Hornblower growled in warning — and Will kissed her in apology. But Will discovered that she liked the feel of the soft inside of his lower lip, and he set to with enthusiasm. He petted her folds with his knuckles, stroked her bright acid depths with his tongue, lipped at her clit. She sighed and cooed in pleasure, her thighs twitching under his palms. A hand knotted in his hair — hers, by the way it gripped in sync with the movement of her hips and thighs. He could hear Hornblower's voice rumbling, keeping up a steady flow of encouragement to his wife, but Will couldn't make out the words. Will felt like he was floating, taste and smell and sound, Maria's thighs around his ears. "A finger, please, Will," Maria said, and he gently slid a finger inside her, more easily than before, while she bore down to take it. Later — how much later? — she asked for another, and he obliged, her flesh hot and wet and tight. She keened and pushed up hard against his mouth, her flesh gripping and shuddering hard around his fingers.

"Look alert there," Hornblower said some time later, his voice cutting through Will's reverie. Maria's hand petted gently through Will's hair; another — Hornblower's this time — tapped at his shoulder. "Come back up here," Hornblower directed, "the lady wants to try your cock."

His prick leapt in response to being called. "Yes, sir," Will answered, and he eased his fingers free of Maria's cunt; his two fingers were cramped and shriveled, and he flexed them carefully. He kissed Maria's nubbin in farewell, squarely on the sheath so as not to startle her, and knelt up between her legs. Maria sat up to meet him, and leaned forward to take his face between her hands. She wiped his mouth dry with her thumbs.

"Oh, my dear sweet Will," she said, and kissed him, not flinching away from her taste on his mouth. "You're so good to me," she added, and he glowed with pride.

"On your back," Hornblower ordered, indicating where Will should lie. "And get rid of these." Will obediently shucked out of his trousers and lay down as directed, looking up at both Hornblowers sitting up over him, silhouetted in the dim light.

But Hornblower had already turned his attention back to his wife. "See how he wants you?" he said into her ear. She reached down and touched Will's cock. Will's hips lifted in response, his cock reaching for her, and Hornblower put a restraining hand on Will's stomach. "Steady now," he warned, and again, Will felt like a tool to be used between them. Maria's cool fingers stroked his length, tested his heft and hardness.

"Maria," he said, longing for her cunt, her approval.

But Hornblower was talking to his wife again. "Here, like so," Hornblower said, an arm around her waist, and instructed her to swing a leg over Will. Will, mindful of Hornblower's hand on his stomach, kept his hips where they were instead of rising to meet her. One hand slipped up Maria's thigh to her hip; the other hand clasped Hornblower's wrist. Hornblower permitted it, his attention still on his wife.

"No rush, no hurry," he whispered to her, his voice still hoarse. "In your own time, as much or as little as you please."

"My dear Angel," Maria said, turning to kiss her husband; he kissed her back with more affection than passion, his split lip apparently forgotten. Will waited, tense with anticipation. Maria settled her weight over him and rocked experimentally, rubbing her cunt along the length of his cock; only Hornblower's restraining hand on Will's stomach kept him from trying to find his way into that welcoming heat. Maria's movements were clumsy and inexperienced as she rubbed herself on Will; she didn't have the knack of tilting her hips just so and catching Will's prick, drawing it up into herself.

"Shall I help?" her husband asked, and retrieving his hand from Will's grip, he coolly took Will in hand, holding him steady for his wife. Will groaned, heartfelt.

"Listen to him," Hornblower said. "Listen to what you do to him."

There was more clumsy fumbling, then Maria caught the tip of Will's prick in her wet heat; he clutched tightly at her hips. "Help her, Bush," Hornblower said, low, but Will was already trying to help her find the position and angle—

Then he was sliding free into her sheath.

She gasped and flinched, pulling away, and Will instantly froze.

"Hold there," Hornblower ordered, but Bush had already gone immobile. "All right?" he asked his wife, a hand on her back. She nodded.

Will, in his turn, stroked her hips and stomach, long touches, trying to soothe her. "Shh, relax for me, Maria."

Hornblower was also whispering to her. "There now. He won't move until you're ready for him. Won't he?" There was a banked threat in the question, but it was wholly unnecessary.

"Aye, sir," Will agreed. "Just like this, for as long as you please." Heedless of his words, his cock twitched, hungry for her.

Maria gave a breathless laugh. "My sweet darling Will. Of course you will. I just…" She put a hand on his chest to steady herself; he took it in his own. But she was already shifting her weight, easing her way down on his shaft, her breath coming in little hitches. Her hand was tense in his, and he kissed it, needing some way to show his devotion. Finally her weight settled on him fully, her heat fully enveloping him, but still she shifted uncomfortably.

Will stroked her hip, kissed her hand again. "Maria," he said, soothing, and felt her cunt squeeze and twitch along his length. But the discomfort must be passing; her movements were becoming smoother, longer.

"That's right," her husband murmured into her ear. "In your own time. He's going to treat you like a queen."

Will wanted that very badly, to give himself to her, to worship and treasure her. "Maria," he groaned, his voice heavy with want.

She continued to move, tiny motions, experimenting. Her breath caught; her hips twitched. She had evidently found a motion she liked. She rocked against him, chasing the feeling, and he felt her response when she found it again. She settled into a rhythm, a short little rocking motion on his cock, tilting her hips to rub herself against his pubic bone. It was exquisite; it was hopelessly frustrating. He wanted to make her feel more, better.

"May I, Maria?" he asked, his hands settling on her hips, waiting for her permission.

"Yes," she said, and he rose to meet her motion. She made a noise of surprise, and after a moment's hesitation, moved with more enthusiasm. Again he rose to meet her, deliberately pacing himself to match her rhythm, and rose again, experimenting with his own angle and timing, trying to discover a motion that pleased her.

"Oh! That's… Yes, Will, that's…!" Her hands clutched on his chest.

But he could feel it, too, feel the smoothness of her movement, the way she eagerly bore down to meet him. Her cunt worked on his cock, taking him in and stroking him, no longer shy and flinching.

"God, Maria," he said, heartfelt, moving as deliberately as he knew how. He felt her shudder on his cock.

"Handsomely now," Hornblower said, but neither of them needed the encouragement. Hornblower's hand roamed his wife's body, testing, inquisitive, stroking a breast through her nightshirt, a nipple, her stomach, before insinuating itself beneath the nightshirt hem where Maria and Will's flesh met. Hornblower was obviously concentrating on his wife's pleasure, not Will's, but feeling those clever quick fingers brush against his cock… Will groaned again, his hands tightening on Maria's hips, and he moved with more enthusiasm.

Whatever Hornblower was doing with that hand, Maria approved of it very much. She gave small, desperate cries, her cunt clasping tightly around Will's cock, hot and delicious, her body straining against his. "Horry, please," she cried, and it bothered Will not one whit that it wasn't his name she called out. "Please, Horry… Horry!" Then she was shuddering, arching and rigid in Will's arms, her breath a long fluttering moan, before collapsing against Will's chest, her cunt twitching spasmodically around Will's cock. She breathlessly called out her husband's name, and Will's, too. She kissed Will's chest — his skin was wet with sweat — and Will felt his heart pound to bursting.

But she did not stay still for long. "My perfect Will," she said, kissing him again, and tensing her cunt, deliberately ground her hips down against his. He groaned and surged up into her, as much from her words as her movement. "Yes," she approved. "Show me how much you love me," she said, and his hips stuttered — to have his secret laid bare like that, exposed in front of her husband's ears… But there was no condemnation in either of them, she whispering encouragement, Hornblower's hand resting on Will's arm, and Will thrust up into her, on his own rhythm now, while she called him perfect, and dear, and demanded that he show his devotion to her—

When he came, straining up into her body, it was behind gritted teeth, desperately trying to stifle the noises he was making, while she petted and praised him and asked him to let her hear him. But he couldn't sing out, not even for her — too many years with nothing more than a canvas screen, if even that much, between himself and his shipmates, too many years when desperate silence was absolutely necessary. He apologized into her shoulder for his failings, abjectly begged for her forgiveness, but she only laughed and petted him, calling him her good Will, her perfect Will. Will was wringing wet with sweat, but she didn't seem to mind, only cuddled him close and spoke gently to him, and if he could have given her his heart a second time, he would have.

Then Hornblower stirred beside them, and Will froze, acutely aware of how far he had forgotten himself.

But if Hornblower was displeased, it was not outwardly evident. He lay down beside them, and stroked his hand down his wife's side. "How are you, my dear?"

She laughed breathlessly, then shifted herself off Will with a wince, lying down between Will and her husband, squirming until they made space for her. "I'll be sore, I think."

"But pleased?" Hornblower asked, and Will heard a note of uncertainty in Hornblower's voice.

"Very pleased," she reassured him.

"Good." A pause. "I told you he's a better man than I am."

"Oh, my dear Angel, now none of that," she scolded him, and he ducked his chin. Bush wished he could see Hornblower's expression, but his face was shadowed. Maria shifted, sliding herself closer to her husband — but even so, her hand sought Will's in the dark. "You're as kind and generous a husband as a woman could ask for."

"It doesn't hold a candle to the generosity you've shown me," he said, his voice low with shame, and Will was struck by the conviction that he ought not be here for this conversation.

"Excuse me," he said, starting to leave the bed, but Maria's hand tightened on his and pulled him back.

"You stay exactly where you are, William Bush."

"I'm intruding," Will protested, eager to give them their privacy.

"Hardly an intrusion," Hornblower said stiffly. He cleared his throat. "No, I wouldn't call you an intrusion at all."

"See?" Maria coaxed. "Come back to bed, Will."

But still Will hesitated.

"You wouldn't show my wife the discourtesy of fucking her and fleeing her bed, would you, Bush?" Hornblower said, and the charge was so unfair that Bush was dumbstruck.

"Sir!" he protested.

"Horry, behave," Maria scolded him. "And Will, come back here, just as you were. I would be very sorry if you left, even if only for a little while — you'll be gone soon enough come morning. You both will be."

Bush waited, wary of the sadness in her voice, but there was no hint of tears forthcoming. "Will," she coaxed, and he allowed himself to be drawn back against Maria's side. "That's better," she said, and kissed his shoulder. She turned to her husband. "Horry? Will you kiss me?"

Hornblower paused, and Will could not make out the nature of his hesitation, whether it was shame or remorse or ought else.

"My lip is split," Hornblower protested.

It was a ridiculous excuse, and a surge of protectiveness welled up in Bush. They would be at sea soon, and who knew where fortune would bring them after that? Meanwhile, Maria would be left to wait for a husband who might never come home again.

"Kiss your wife, sir," Bush said.

He kept his eyes shut and his chin ducked, but he felt the shift of weight on the mattress, Maria's hand twist in his as she kissed her husband.

"Ow," Hornblower said petulantly a few seconds later, and Maria giggled.

"Oh, you poor love. Pass me the arnica — it's just there beside you."

The mattress shifted as Hornblower did so, and Bush lay next to Maria's side, warm and comfortable, and listened to their domestic murmurings in the dark.


End file.
